No matter what
by Andreas-Corelli
Summary: This is the story of a promise. One Alistair made in the dark of the Deep Roads to a warden still reeling from the horror of their encounter with Hespith and the Broodmother. (Written since the game forgot to address the potential implication of learning how the broodmothers are really created, especially for a female warden)


They might not have won the war, but hey had won this battle. Branka had been defeated and they were now on their way back to Ozammar with a crown forged by Caridin for the new king. They were victorious, all of them, alive to fight another day.

And yet, for Alienor there was no euphoria or even a sense of relief. It was quite the opposite. The past day's events had left her with the taste of cold ashes in her mouth and a sinking feeling in her stomach, a sense of dread that she hadn't been able to shake since the Dead Trenches. Even now as she laid next to Alistair, her back pressed to his side and her head resting on his arm, she found herself unable to quiet her mind. She closed her eyes, praying for sleep to come, but as soon as she did, the image of piles of torn flesh flashed before her eyes.

First day, they come catch everyone.

Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat.

Her eyes opened wide as she felt her pulse quickening and a wave of nausea washed over her. Not again, she thought.

Third day, the men are all gnawed on again.

Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate.

Despite herself, it was like Hespith's words had been seared into her mind with a branding iron. She wanted to forget them, but she couldn't. There was no escaping from the feverish voice in the back of her head that whispered them over and over again.

Fifth_ day, they return and it's another girl's turn._

Sixth_ day, her screams we hear in our dreams._

Shivering, she pressed herself closer to Alistair. From the corner of her eyes, she could see Oghren in his bedroll, one hand on his ax and the other on his flat, and Shale's silhouette at the edge of their camp, its crystal glistening in the dark. See , she tried to remind herself, hoping it would steer her mind away from those terrible verses, you're safe now. Now, maybe; but what about later?

Seventh day, she grew as in her mouth they spew.

Eighth day, we hated as she is violated.

Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin.

Now she does feast, as she's become the beast.

The image of the broodmother flashed before her eyes, only this time the creature's features looked frighteningly like her own. Could the same thing happen to her? Would the same thing happen to her? What about the Calling…

Before she could finish her thought, a gentle hand came to rest on her shoulder.

"Are you alright?" whispered Alistair. "You're shaking."

Without a word, she turned to face him and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

"I'll take that as a no," he said, wrapping his arm around her. "What's on your mind?"

"Hespith and Laryn."

Alienor felt his fingers clutching the fabric of her robes and the muscle in his neck tensing up at the mention of the two names, but he didn't say anything. He simply waited for her to say what was on her mind.

"Did you know that's how… that they turned…" She struggled with her sentence, unsure how to finish it. "…that it happened?" Her words were painfully inept, but then again, she doubted that there existed a word sufficient to describe the fate of the women following Branka.

"I didn't. I'm not even sure the Wardens ever knew."

She kept quiet for a moment, unable to bring herself to ask the next question out loud. She didn't really need to either; they were both knew what it was. It had danced in their minds, too terrible to say aloud. Could it happen to me as well?

"You're already infected with the taint in a way…" began Alistair, unsure. "So it might not work on a Grey Warden."

She could hear the lack of conviction behind his words and for once she found herself wishing he wasn't so easy to read.

"But you don't know."

They held each other in silence for a moment, alert to any sound coming from the dept.

"What about the Calling? " said Alienor after a while. "What should I do when it comes?"

"I don't know," admitted Alistair. "But, how about this; when it happens and if you chose to go down the Deep Roads, I'll go with you and I'll make sure those darkspawns never get the chance to do that to you."

Alienor propped herself on her elbow to better look at his face. Was he really offering what she thought he was? To take her life rather than let the darkspawn take everything else from her. "You do realise what that implies?"

"Despite what Morigan sais, I'm not that stupid," he said with a grin, but, despite his boyish smile and the playfulness of his tone, there was something painfully solemn and sincere in his eyes. "And besides, I thought we were sticking together. No matter what."

He had said those words a few times now, but it was the first time she realised how much he meant them. Love and adoration rushed over her, submerging her and filling her completely.

Lowering herself, she pressed her lips softly against his. The kiss was brief, chaste even, but it felt as meaningful as the kiss of peace exchanged in Chantries for weddings. Even as their lips parted, neither of them moved. Alienor kept still, her forehead against his and whispered, "No matter what."

After all, she already trusted him with her life; now, she'd trust him with her death as well.


End file.
